


Learning Curve

by enpitsuu



Series: Misfire [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Butler Shirogane, Captive Furihata, Furihata reflects a lot, Hitman Akashi, Kendo Master Araki, M/M, Mystery, Slow Build, mentions of Furihata's family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enpitsuu/pseuds/enpitsuu
Summary: Sequel to Misfire. In which Furihata settles into a brand new life while shadows from the past begin to catch up with the future.





	Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a fan work. I do not own any of the characters in Kuroko no Basuke. All rights belong to its creator.

_Name: Furihata Kouki_

_Gender: Male_

_Date of Birth: 18 May XXXX_

_Nationality: Japanese_

_Status: Deceased_

A pale finger taps lightly on the keyboard, scrolling through the rest of the lengthy report, an air of deep focus surrounding the man as he worked in the brightly lit study. When the screen’s sidebar stills signaling that the end of the report had been reached, the man moves his fingers away from the keyboard and laces them together on the desk instead, a thoughtful look adorning his sharp features.      

Several minutes later, the man’s expression lightens, as if reaching an epiphany. Moving with renewed purpose, the pale fingers maneuver the pointer on the screen to a button labelled “send” and promptly clicked on it without further hesitation.

A second later, the screen lights up with a notification. _Mail successfully sent._    

The man leans back in his seat with a smile on his face, dark scarlet eyes glinting in the light of the silent room.

********************************************

“ARGH!!” Furihata yells out loud, barely managing to block with his bamboo sword when a blow as heavy as Thor’s hammer landed, causing his knees to buckle for what must have been the thirtieth time in a span of ten minutes. That would be at least one time for every twenty seconds that passed. Shaking legs unable to hold up the weight of his own body any longer, he crumpled in a heap on the tatami flooring beneath him, the bamboo sword slipping out of his grasp and landing with a dull ‘thunk’ to the side.

Gasping hard to catch his breath, Furihata turned to lie sprawled out on his aching back, the traditional _gi_ and _hakama_ he wore fanning out around him as he pulled off the head gear covering his face with gloved hands and tossed it aside, blinking the sweat out of his eyes until the white ceiling panels above became visible again. His whole body _hurt_ , rendering him incapable of movement. Light footsteps approached where he laid like a deadweight, causing his weary body to tense up.

“Furihata-sama, physical prowess aside, your stamina still leaves much to be desired.”

 _Yeah I noticed_ , Furihata thought bitterly but kept the thought to himself. Instead, he turned to look at the source of those footsteps out of the corner of an eye. The tall man hovering above him was dressed impeccably in a butler’s suit, deep-set eyes emanating a wealth of wisdom despite being obscured behind a pair of thick glasses, the wrinkled lines of his face and greying hair bearing proof of his age. The man must be at least twice as old as Furihata yet he had a muscular build and sturdy shoulders, his neck held high with an air of authority. This man went by the name of Shirogane Eiji, head butler of the Akashi estate and the Emperor’s most trusted, right-hand man.   

Head butler Shirogane spared Furihata a moment’s glance before turning away to face the only other person in the room. “You may take a five-minute break, Araki.”

Furihata flicked his gaze to Araki, his sparring opponent for the day. She was a petite woman of small stature which had for one glorious moment given Furihata the hope that perhaps he had the upper hand for once – all his sparring opponents were usually big, burly men – but then the dream died within five seconds of their first mock sparring match. Araki packed some mean punches in that tiny body of hers and Furihata never stood a chance. At Shirogane’s words, she bowed and stepped out of the room, leaving Furihata alone with the older man.

Save for Furihata’s raspy breaths, which were slowly beginning to stabilize itself, the room was enveloped in silence. An afternoon breeze carrying the scent of early spring pierced the musty air of the makeshift practice room through the swaying half-opened blinds, sunlight filtering in and reflecting off the full-sized mirror decked out on one whole side of the room. Save for a stack of mats piled neatly at a corner alongside a storing cupboard for equipment, the rest of the room was bare and had plenty of floor space, making it suitable for all manners of activities involving extensive maneuvering and footwork. Taking in the peaceful atmosphere surrounding him, Furihata felt a sense of surrealism which had become all too familiar over the course of the past month, wash over him.

It’s been approximately one full month since he had moved in with Akashi. Okay, let’s rephrase that. It’s been one month since he had been whisked away to a new life at the Akashi estate, leaving behind everything he had before in one fell swoop. If Furihata were to look back now, the first few days after waking up in that mysterious room with Akashi were the fuzziest. He could still remember the all-encompassing fear he felt deep in his bones when he was held at gunpoint and the immense relief when Akashi decided to spare his life, but then everything after that was a vague, spotty blur in his memory. He couldn’t for the life of him remember how or when he had gotten out of that room so he suspected he must have blacked out in the middle somewhere. By the time his consciousness filled-in again, he had found himself travelling in a moving vehicle. Blindfolded.

He would have gone into another fit of panic if he hadn’t realized that save for his eyes, he had free reign of all his other limbs. However, before he could rid himself of the thick material robbing him of his sight, a smooth voice had breathed right into his ear, effectively stopping him from any further movement.

_“You will keep that on if you know what is better for you.”_

Furihata didn’t need to be told twice. He opted to leave the blindfold alone and stayed docile for the next two hours of the journey. When the third hour rolled by, after which he had concluded that he was being driven somewhere in a car and the Emperor – _Akashi_ , was sitting right beside him, he had managed to find his voice.

_“W-where are we g-going?”_

There had been a pregnant pause at his question which caused Furihata to feel very anxious and made him wonder if Akashi had somehow disappeared without him noticing and really, maybe he should just hold his damn tongue, when the other man had responded with a slight tinge of what Furihata identified as mirth in his voice. 

_“To your new home.”_

When the car had finally stopped and he was allowed to remove the blindfold, Furihata had found himself standing in front of the largest mansion he’d ever seen in his life. For a moment he thought he might have been taken to see the king of some land or at least someone of royal descent, only to have his jaw drop in shock when he learned that this was _Akashi’s house_. And if he was impressed by the size of the house, then he was positively awestruck when he realized he couldn’t see where the edges of the grounds ended, the vast land around him continuing to stretch as far as his eyes could see even as he spun full circle on the spot where he stood. Having been blindfolded throughout the whole car ride, Furihata had no idea where he’d been brought to. _Was he even still in Japan?_

After that, a whirlwind of things happened, some of the most key ones being Akashi placing Furihata under the care of Shirogane and being introduced to all servants of the Akashi estate (and there were a _lot_ of them, by the way) as Akashi’s _special guest_ who would be living with them at the estate from now on. This apparently had the effect of instantly elevating Furihata to VIP status in the eyes of all the other occupants of the estate and the rest was history. He was given a room of his own and provided with food, clothes and all the basic necessities he could possibly want and was allowed access to all the facilities available on the estate as he wished. It was almost too good to be true but of course, nothing in life came without a price. In exchange for the luxuries of the estate, Akashi had enforced three specific rules on Furihata.

 _One_. That Furihata would not be allowed to communicate with or contact anyone outside of the Akashi estate.

 _Two_. That Furihata would not be allowed to leave the Akashi estate at all times.  

 _Three_. That Furihata heed all of Akashi’s orders, which included Furihata partaking in any activities as Akashi fancies him to.

One and two had been well within Furihata’s expectations so he wasn’t too surprised but three had thrown him for a loop – what _kind_ of activities could Akashi possibly desire of him? He would later learn that Akashi, for some reason, wished for him to be groomed with basic survival skills for a start. ‘Basic survival skills’ to Akashi meaning Furihata becoming adept in all forms of martial arts existing under the sun and complimented by extensive knowledge of various forms of self-defense. As a result, Furihata had spent his days in the estate ever since working on improving the numerous skills required of him under the strict tutelage of head butler Shirogane and Akashi’s army of instructors.

“Furihata-sama,” Shirogane was calling, breaking him out of his reverie. Furihata opened his eyes, not realizing that they had shut as he reminisced and Shirogane’s face came into view. He noticed that his breathing had returned to normal and figured that he must have been out of it for at least a couple of minutes. Blinking rapidly, he summoned the entirety of his awareness back to the present, shaking the last vestiges of his musings away.

“Yeah,” Furihata finally said before sitting up and adjusting the heavy breastplate still attached to his torso. “I’m up.”

“If Furihata-sama is sufficiently recovered, shall we prepare to resume practice?” Boy, Shirogane sure was a slave-driver.

“Ugh, I don’t know if my arms can take any more beating today,” Furihata grimaced, lifting one sleeve of the _gi_ he wore up to reveal a still jittery arm. He glared at the bamboo sword and protective head gear lying inanimate beside him. Those things were _heavy_ and the bamboo sword was troublesome enough to handle on its own, never mind that he also needed to dodge blows from an opponent who contrary to Furihata didn’t seem to have any problems wielding the heavy equipment.  

Shirogane regarded the wobbly arm with a pensive look. “Hmm. Perhaps we should do another run-through of the basics again.”

Furihata snorted before he could stop himself, letting go of his sleeve. “I doubt it’s the basics that I have a problem with.” He absent-mindedly rubbed at the skin on the back of his neck where the scratchy material of the _gi_ had been chaffing. “Carrying all these heavy stuff is wearing me out.”

“Then, would Furihata-sama prefer to revert to the regular endurance menu for the rest of the day?”

Furihata blanched at the idea. Ever since arriving at the estate, all of Furihata’s mornings had been dedicated to what Shirogane liked to call the ‘endurance menu’ which simply put, was a daily regime of simple physical exercises concocted with the aim to build up Furihata’s endurance levels. However, like all things related to the best hitman in the world and his retainers, the so-called ‘simple’ endurance menu was the equivalent to hell on earth for Furihata. The hellish 'exercises' usually lasted the whole of the morning until lunchtime when Furihata was allowed a short reprieve before being carted off to afternoon lessons consisting of one-on-one practical classes on specific combat styles with experts in the field. And for the past one month, _kendo_ had been the chosen afternoon past-time.   

While the traditional Japanese art in sword-fighting might not be Furihata’s cup of tea, the idea of another sit-up or squat or jump or just about _any_ form of strenuous activity aiming to push him to the limits of his durability, was even worse. He had wondered once or twice whether he would collapse under all the pressure and if he did, what would become of him? Would Akashi change his mind about Furihata? He didn’t know and he didn’t want to find out, so he was left with no choice but to continue hanging on despite his body’s growing protests. Sure, as a kid, he might have enjoyed playing the occasional sport like the casual baseball or casual basketball or casual swimming – oh, and did he mention casual? But being an insurance company worker for the last several years of his life, the only exercise he’d gotten was chasing after trains in the mornings because he overslept and was late for work or when he suddenly remembered having a client meeting outside of office and had to chase trains again while rushing to get to whatever designated meeting venue on time. He was inching towards the edges of his physical limits and he didn’t know if his body would be able to take much more abuse.    

“Furihata-sama,” Shirogane said sternly, accurately reading the younger man’s consternation from his expression. “It would not do to be weak-willed. _Kendo_ is an art designated to build character and discipline, at the same time honing the body’s senses and harnessing the potential energy hidden within. If Furihata-sama continues to train persistently, achieving our desired goal is only but a matter of time and patience.”

Furihata sighed inwardly. “Thanks for the encouragement, Shirogane-san, but… it’s been a month. I think you’ve seen for yourself by now just exactly what I can do.” He gestured at himself meaningfully.

“Naturally, I am well aware.”

“Then you should know I’m not exactly cut-out for this kind of… stuff.”

“Indeed. Everything has been exactly as Akashi-sama predicted.”

Furihata jolted in surprise. “What’s A-Ak— _he_ gotta do with this?” He winced a little for stuttering at the sudden mention of the name of the lord of the house he now lived in. By now, he should already be long past the days of uncontrollable panic each time he saw or spoke or even heard the name “Akashi” but as they say, old habits die hard. 

“I am sure you know better than I just how well the Young Master understands the extent of your capabilities. He has already seen through everything.”  

Furihata certainly didn’t doubt that. He wasn’t about to forget that the man had proudly admitted to watching Furihata’s every move for three whole years. He ignored the slight twinge of embarrassment in his stomach at the thought. Recently, he had started wondering _exactly_ how much had Akashi been watching him during those three years. And how? Were secret cameras involved? Hearing devices? Both? And surely, he couldn’t have been watching and or listening _all_ the time? There had been reports of the Emperor on TV during that same period, which meant that Akashi must have at least been working on other… jobs as well, and not just Furihata. Even so, with Akashi’s reputation and just how thorough Furihata knew the other man could be now that he’d been around said man for a while, he wouldn’t put it past him to do the impossible. Furihata shuddered, feeling very conscious of himself.

Just then, the door to the room opened revealing Furihata’s current worst nightmare. He held back the mournful groan in his throat at the sight of Araki, all prepped-up and looking ready to give Furihata his thirty-first beating of the day. Like a trained soldier, she strode firmly to the exact spot she had been standing in the whole morning, Furihata having failed to make her take even a single step outside of the imaginary small circle she stood in. It frustrated him.    

“Shall we resume, Furihata-sama?”

Furihata hesitated for a short ten seconds before taking in a deep breath and standing up. Oh well. What choice did he have? Picking up the fallen bamboo sword, he moved into position as Shirogane helped him reattach the protective head gear. When he was done, he took his place in front of Araki and brandished his sword in a manner which had been beaten into his muscle memory by his strict trainers and steeled himself for another go.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

 ********************************************

A loud clanging reverberated through the light beige walls of the dining hall as a heavy fork connected with classy china.

The sound caused deep red eyes to turn on him and Furihata immediately started to sweat. “S-s-sorry! The fork s-s-slipped!” he said quickly, words catching between his teeth as he hurried to pick the fallen fork up and placed it to the side. After doing so, he chanced a glance at the man sitting across the long table. The look Akashi wore on his face was the same one Furihata had become used to seeing as of late, contemplative with a dash of amusement.

“Is something the matter, Kouki?” Akashi asked, placing his own silverware down in favour of paying full attention to Furihata. It was dinner time now and the two men had been halfway through the main course – a French dish which Furihata couldn’t pronounce the name of but had chicken as the main theme – when Furihata had screwed up and disrupted their meal.   

“N-n-nothing!” Furihata replied, cursing himself inwardly and feeling his anxiety levels jumping as it always did whenever Akashi zeroed in on him like that. “E-everything’s fine!”

Akashi raised an eyebrow in disbelief but when Furihata offered no further explanation, the redheaded man cocked his head to the side. “Shirogane,” he said in a questioning tone, not needing to turn around to know that the older man stood at the back like a guardian angel watching over him.

Shirogane didn’t miss a beat, responding from the shadows behind Akashi. “It seems Furihata-sama might have pushed himself too hard during _kendo_ training today,” he informed.

Furihata turned red at Shirogane’s words, feeling exposed. The amusement on Akashi’s face had vanished, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Come here, Kouki.”

Furihata’s heart rate picked up at the direct instruction and he swallowed nervously. Well damn, he’d gone and done it now. And dinner had been going so well too. After a whole month of living at the estate, Furihata had started allowing himself to believe that he was finally getting used to all the fancy shindigs required of him as Akashi’s special guest – it was something that came in a package whenever Akashi was personally involved, everything the man did was on a whole different scale – but _now_ Furihata had gone and done it, ruining the mood of what would have otherwise been a nice, peaceful dinner. Why, oh, why was he always such a big, clumsy oaf?

Filled with both anxiety and remorse, Furihata got up from his seat and made his way to the other man, knees feeling a bit like jelly while he moved around the long, dining table as elegantly as he could. He paused when he stood a few feet away from the other man, body stiff and gaze lowered nervously, not quite sure what Akashi wanted him to do. But then Akashi beckoned to him with a hand and he took a step forward.

The moment he was within reach, Akashi grabbed at his wrists with both hands making Furihata gasp as he stumbled closer to the other man, his hands pulled flush in front of scrutinizing red eyes. Furihata watched helplessly, feeling the blood rush to his face at the sensation of Akashi’s hands turning his over as the wealthy heir examined the scabs and blisters decorating Furihata’s palms. Some of the ugly marks were already fading, on their way to being healed but there were also a number of fresh ones courtesy of the harsh _kendo_ session with Araki from earlier that day. Furihata almost choked, adrenaline pumping and hands trembling involuntarily when Akashi test-brushed a pale finger past one of the newer blisters, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. The hairs on the back of Furihata’s neck stood up.

“I see you have been hard at work. You should have informed me if you were injured,” Akashi said finally, releasing Furihata’s hands as he said this, much to the brunette’s relief. Furihata quickly tucked his hands together close to his chest as if to hide them from view, the feel of Akashi’s touch burning deep into his skin.

“S-sorry. It’s really nothing much, A-Akashi-san.”

“Please, Kouki, spare me the honorifics. Have I not told you not to call me that?”

“Sorry… A-Akashi,” Furihata repeated awkwardly, feeling the heat in his face flush harder. Everyone else in the house referred to the redheaded man as ‘Akashi-sama’ or ‘Young Master Akashi’ so it felt weird for Furihata to be the only one addressing the man differently. But Akashi was always so insistent.   

“Shirogane, see to it that Kouki’s wounds are treated with utmost care.”

“Certainly, Akashi-sama,” Shirogane replied with a deep bow before retreating from the dining hall, presumably in search of someone to treat Furihata’s wounds. This left Furihata alone with Akashi.

“You may return to your seat,” Akashi dismissed him, turning back to his meal.

Furihata immediately scampered, quickly re-taking his place at the other end of the table, glad to have distance and with it, the ability to breathe normally again. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, stamping down on his erratic heartbeat and taking a minute to recompose himself. If Akashi felt any of the awkwardness lingering in the air, he did not show it.    

“Save for the injuries, how has your training been moving along?” Akashi asked with interest, steering the subject of the conversation to more harmless grounds. Furihata jumped at the chance gratefully.

“It’s been… good,” he replied carefully, exerting control over his voice so that he would stop stammering and speak like a normal person. “Training is tough and I know I’m a bit… slow and um, weak, but Shirogane-san has been really patient and I think I’m getting the hang of things. So uh, I think I’m learning. Slowly. But learning. I think…”

“That is reassuring to know. I am sure you understand just how important this training is for you.” Akashi smiled that attractive smile of his and Furihata looked away quickly, feeling disconcerted. Akashi looked good tonight, as he always did, dressed up in a formal vest over a simple button-down and slacks.

Furihata nervously pulled at the cuff of his own dress shirt. “I, uhm… I try my best.”

“I shall look forward to the results. As you must be aware, survival skills are necessary for everyone who lives here. I have no use for someone who is unable to protect himself in the event of emergencies.”

Furihata cringed a little, feeling somewhat offended. _But you’re the one who decided to bring me here all on your own._ Nonetheless, he wisely kept the thought to himself. Akashi might have been supremely gracious to him so far but Furihata wasn’t about to go and push his luck. He rather liked having his head attached to his neck for at least another 50 years, thank you very much.

As if sensing Furihata’s thoughts, Akashi’s smile broadened. “All things said, there may not be an actual necessity for you to master any of these skills considering your track record. Still, there is no harm in being prepared.” 

Nothing more was said after that and Akashi went back to his dinner, silence filling the room once more. Furihata welcomed the peaceful quiet, letting out a small sigh under his breath. Even after one month, these dinners with Akashi still made Furihata uncomfortable despite it being part of his daily routine alongside the training. The food was always scrumptious, full course dinners of a wide variety of cuisines prepared by the Akashi head chef, the taste and presentation never lacking in creativity. No, Furihata had no complaints about the food itself but the manner in which dinner was carried out. He and Akashi would always dine alone (save for Shirogane who usually stood guard behind Akashi) in this large dining hall, on a long, dining table which could have sat at least twenty more people. With only the two of them there, it should have been a fairly intimate affair but with how formal and proper the whole thing was carried out, Furihata only felt an unnatural stiffness, the distance dividing him and his dinner partner feeling like an unbridgeable gap. Furihata wondered whether Akashi had always eaten meals this way even before Furihata’s arrival at the estate.

Apart from the evenings, Furihata barely got to see the other man, contrary to what Furihata might have initially imagined. Akashi was never around while Furihata was busy ‘training’ during the day. In the mornings, he sometimes spotted an immaculately dressed Akashi leaving the house in a posh limousine and sometimes during their dinners, Akashi would be interrupted by business calls on his mobile phone. Furihata had learnt from Akashi himself over casual dinnertime chatter that Akashi owned a very successful and lucrative family business which had been handed down to him after his father retired and so Akashi oversaw the running of the huge, renowned establishment all by himself. Save for what Akashi had shared with him, Furihata didn’t know much else about the business. He did however conclude that Akashi’s parents didn’t live on the large estate as he had never seen them throughout his time here. He wondered whether they lived somewhere else instead but knew it wasn’t his place to ask anyway.

Other than that, life at the Akashi estate was extraordinarily normal. In fact, to all outward appearances, Akashi seemed to be just an ordinary businessman albeit a very successful one. Furihata hadn’t seen any hint of Akashi’s ‘other job’ since himself and Furihata found it hard to believe sometimes that Akashi _was_ the Emperor and the world’s best hitman. But then again, what did Furihata know about Akashi’s life anyway?  

They ate the rest of their dinner in silence and soon, dessert was served.

“So, Kouki,” Akashi began. “Tell me, how have you found your first month here?” Akashi tucked into the luscious dessert as he asked.

“O-oh!” Furihata was caught off-guard by the question, his spoon pausing mid-scoop in the air. “It-it’s been… good.”

Akashi looked amused again. “Oh? Do elaborate further. You are an observant person, Kouki, so I imagine that you would have more to speak of. Do not be shy and feel free to express your honest opinion.”

Furihata _was_ being honest, though. Things were generally good and he didn’t actually have much else to say. Sure, training was tough but he’d already said that earlier and he didn’t want to seem like he was whining, and if we’re talking about the house itself, there wasn’t a single complaint Furihata could think of. The Akashi estate was very comfortable to live in. But because Akashi was looking at him with keen eyes, Furihata had no choice but to continue explaining. “Uhm…” he began, trying to think of his first impression of the house. “I guess this place is really… nice. I mean, the house is really big and comfortable and my current bedroom is as big as my old apartment. Oh, and it’s amazing that it’s got its own bathroom! And the food is delicious too and um… more importantly, I guess everyone has been really nice...”

It was true. Despite the circumstances in which Furihata had been brought here, everyone – including Akashi – had been treating him really well and barring the three golden rules which had been set for him, he had all his needs taken care of perfectly.      

“It is only right that a special guest of mine be treated hospitably and I am glad to hear that you appreciate the amenities available to you. Do feel free to enjoy anything you find in it and speak to the servants if you have need for assistance around the house. I take it then that there has been no other problems?”

“No,” Furihata agreed. “No problems.”

“Wonderful. If any issues were to arise at any point of time, you may inform me or in my absence, Shirogane. It is important that you feel absolutely comfortable here since you will be staying for a long time.” 

Furihata felt himself stiffen at those words, the off-handed seriousness in which it was said was not lost on him, driving home a point which Furihata had been intentionally ignoring but which he knew he had to face eventually.

_He would be staying here for a long time, huh?_

“Kouki, the crème brulee is getting cold.”

“Y-yes!” Furihata said, turning back to his forgotten dessert and filing away the thoughts for pondering later. For now, there was a delectable plate of crème brulee waiting to be eaten.

********************************************

After dinner and after a long session with the Akashi in-house medic, Furihata retired to his bedroom. His stomach was full from the gorgeous dinner he’d had and his hands were stinging from a foul-smelling ointment which had been applied to the multiple wounds there.

Feeling the ache in his muscles throb, Furihata allowed himself to finally sink into the king-sized bed in the middle of the room, not bothering to change into the pajamas which had been laid out on the armchair by the dressing table. Letting out a sigh, he spread out his limbs and laid like a starfish in the center of the black, satin sheets, eyes staring up at the paneled ceiling through the moonlit darkness of the room. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights.

Furihata relaxed his tired body. This was the _only_ time of the day in which he was granted his own personal time and space.

He took a few moments to enjoy the feeling of the soft sheets against his back, mind staying blissfully blank. The night air coming in from the slightly ajar sliding glass windows was cool and calming, the dark-grey curtains billowing lightly in the wind. As the minutes ticked by and darkness began to settle in, Furihata felt his mind wander back to the conversation from earlier.

_“It is important that you feel absolutely comfortable here since you will be staying for a long time.”_

It shouldn’t have been something so shocking but the words had jarred at his senses. When he was captured and when Akashi declared that Furihata would be kept by his side for knowing the Emperor’s true identity, he had known that the redheaded man meant every word he said. So when he was brought to the Akashi estate and effectively cut-off from the world outside, Furihata had been prepared. What _was_ surprising, however, was how fast he had adapted to the new lifestyle despite the initial shock – though he supposed being given the VIP treatment helped greatly to ease him into the new changes.

Furihata’s life immediately before coming to live on Akashi’s estate had not been a very kind one. In particular, he had struggled to make ends meet after the road accident which claimed the lives of his whole family had happened. Despite inheriting a sum of money from his dead parents’ legacy, it wasn’t enough and Furihata ended up selling most of the assets left to him and had even needed to scrape money from his own savings in order to settle the family’s debts before moving into a rundown but very-cheap-rent apartment. After that, Furihata had been living day after day trying to get by with the meager salary he earned from his insurance job and to just make it on his own. Until Akashi appeared in his life.

All things considered and due largely to the depressing circumstances of his own life, Furihata figured that being brought here had probably done him more good than bad. As long as he observed the rules, he was allowed to live his days peacefully. Sure, he had been forced to give up some of his freedom and was made to undertake ungodly physical training programs but in return, he no longer worried about rent or whether he would have food on the dinner table. All the basic necessities he needed in life were well taken care of. It was a leisure he didn’t have since the passing of his family and in fact, it sufficed to say that the quality of his life had improved drastically ever since meeting Akashi. He _did_ think that perhaps he should feel a little scared of the reality that he was now living in the house of the _best hitman in the world_ , not to mention said hitman had tried to kill him, but since Akashi’s last failed attempt, the man had shown no signs of wanting to get rid of him. Quite the contrary really. If Furihata didn’t know better, he would say that Akashi seemed to enjoy his company. Perhaps Akashi found some sort of enjoyment in watching Furihata screw-up from his blundering tendencies? Akashi always did seem amused whenever Furihata was around after all. As bizarre as it sounded even in his own mind, Furihata felt a swell of exhilaration at the possibility that someone like Akashi might actually _like_ having someone like Furihata around, even if he was just comic relief. It made him feel strangely fulfilled, something Furihata hadn’t felt in a long time.       

Instinctively, Furihata sat up, reaching out for the sole item which sat on his bedside table and falling back into the sheets when he had what he wanted in his hands – a photo frame containing one single picture. It was his most prized possession and he was eternally grateful to have been reunited with it.

One week after his arrival at the Akashi estate, Furihata had found – to his pleasant surprise – two large luggage bags sitting on the carpeted floor of his bedroom, filled to the brim with all his things from the old apartment. When he had asked Shirogane how it had gotten there, the reply he received was simply, _“Akashi-sama has taken care of everything.”_ Furihata had wanted to ask more about what happened to his old apartment or his old job – even if no one else noticed, surely his landlord would come looking for him when the rent was due? And surely the people from work would be questioning his sudden absence? But the head butler had simply smiled and repeated that everything had already been dealt with and that Furihata needn’t concern himself with it any longer, whatever that meant. Furihata was so grateful to have all his belongings back that he didn’t probe any further, though he did make sure to express his appreciation by thanking Akashi profusely over dinner that night. The redheaded man had seemed ever so pleased.    

Shaking the image of Akashi’s gratified smile out of his head, Furihata stared at the photo frame in his hands. The picture ensconced in a simple plastic frame had been taken some three or four years ago on a mere whim but had now become a deeply treasured memory. It was the last picture taken of Furihata and the rest of his family before the accident.

Furihata traced a finger on the glass surface which protected the photo, taking in the smiling faces in the family portrait. The photo depicted four people – his parents, older brother and himself – standing in front of an ancient Japanese inn. This was from the time his family had made an impromptu weekend trip to a hot spring resort. The visit had been planned at the very last minute due to his father suddenly being able to take time-off from work so his whole family had rushed through all the arranging and booking and packing and everyone had been in a frenzy. In the end, everything worked out and they made it safely to the resort, to everyone’s jubilation. He still remembered how happy they had all been as they basked in the comfort of the hot springs, laughing at each other’s jokes, catching up on the latest news of his brother’s new love interest, chatting animatedly over _sake_ and good food and all around just spending time bonding with each other. Furihata smiled at the memory. Who would have known that would be the last time he’d ever go on a trip with his family?

There was a sudden burning sensation in Furihata’s eyes and his vision blurred. Surprised, Furihata blinked rapidly, willing the unwanted tears away. Three years had passed since the accident and Furihata had long since learned to accept the changes the accident had brought into his life. During the first few weeks while he was still grieving, he had fallen into a depression – the pain of suddenly losing everyone he loved and the stress from having to deal with the legalities and other practical aspects of life in the aftermath had taken a toll on him and for a while, Furihata had wondered why he’d been the only one spared. If it wasn’t because he had accidentally ingested a bottle of expired milk and subsequently came down with an awful case of food poisoning, Furihata would have been out with the rest of his family in that ill-fated car ride. If he hadn’t been left behind that night, Furihata would have met the same grisly end. Fate had played a cruel trick on him.

To make matters worse, despite having just lost his entire family, Furihata remembered how thankful he had felt to have escaped the same ill-fate. It disgusted him and he had hated himself for feeling that way. Devastated and guilty, Furihata had wondered at the unfairness of it all for a long time – the following weeks being the hardest of his life. Questions swirled in his head – _how_ did this happen, _why_ did this happen and _what_ was he going to do now? The never-ending cycle of unanswered questions rooted itself deep in his consciousness and he had been heading into a downward spiral. Until one day, something just _clicked_.

Now, Furihata was not an outstanding individual. He wasn’t particularly clever or skilled or talented in any way. He was as ordinary as ordinary could be so overthinking things never led him anywhere useful. So, naturally, he preferred to keep things simple. Dealing with grief was no different.

Later on, Furihata would recognize that precise moment as the moment he learnt to accept that life didn’t always have answers. It was just what it was. He wasn’t particularly religious nor was he one for life philosophies. He was just simple Furihata Kouki and to a simple person like him, life was difficult enough without humans complicating it with their wants and needs. So to avoid these complications, Furihata decided he would take whatever came his way and just roll with it. He would make the best of what he had and learn to live on.

And as if he had found the answer to all of life’s questions, Furihata had experienced enlightenment then. It was as if the veil clouding his judgment was finally lifted. Once he had made peace in his mind, it didn’t take long for Furihata to climb out of his rut and from then on, his journey to recovery began. Despite the inevitable hardships, some semblance of normalcy returned and the hollow weight in his heart eased as the days passed.

Looking back now at everything he’d been through, Furihata supposed being abducted by a hitman and kept in a secluded mansion (which sometimes felt more like a palace) for a prolonged period of time wasn’t the worst thing to have ever happened in his life. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time he was going through a life-changing event. He had already survived the loss of his family so in comparison, surviving through some changes in his lifestyle should be a piece of cake.

Furihata decided he would stop questioning the how and why and what. He would deal with everything that’s happening now the same way he did the last time he hit a turning point in life – by taking whatever came his way and rolling with it.

A big yawn escaped his lips as a sudden wave of fatigue hit him hard. Now that Furihata had reached a conclusion, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his chest leaving him light but extremely drained. He felt his eyelids droop, the photo frame in his hands slipping from his lax fingers and almost hitting his face. The exhaustion from the day’s training was catching up to him and his body had begun to shut down.

Blearily, the brunette placed the photo frame back on the side table before he could drop it. The instant the frame was safely back in its original position, his head hit the pillows.

As sleep crept up on him and renewed determination simmered in the very core of his being, Furihata vowed to himself to show Shirogane exactly what he could do tomorrow during training. Jumbled thoughts of sore muscles and smiling family photos and burning fingers tracing torn skin assaulted his senses in the last of his waking moments, and then he was out like a light.  

The next day, when it came time for Furihata to have his daily one-on-one practical, an idea had taken shape in his mind. His instructor cum sparring partner turned out to be Araki again, which meant that another whip-Furi’s-skinny-ass-with-bamboo stick session was on the itinerary for the afternoon.

Furihata did his warm ups, leaning backwards and forwards alternately to stretch his back muscles, a thoughtful expression on his face. The ointment from last night had worked wonders on his wounds and any pain he had felt had dulled significantly, allowing Furihata the comfortable use of his hands.   

“Are you ready, Furihata-sama?” Shirogane asked when Furihata was done with his warm ups, holding out Furihata’s protective gear and waiting.

“Yeah,” Furihata replied slowly, picking up the bamboo sword he usually used and staring at it. Araki had already taken her place but Furihata didn’t move.

“Furihata-sama?”

Furihata made up his mind. “Say, Shirogane-san. Would it be alright if we did something… different today? I mean, not _kendo_. Like, maybe, some sort of hand-to-hand style? As in, something that uses just my body? Without the equipment.”

Shirogane blinked at him in surprise. Furihata tensed up. Had he gone too far? In the one month that Furihata had been here, this was the first time he was making a request instead of simply doing whatever Shirogane instructed him to do and he wasn’t sure how the head butler would react to it.

“I suppose we could, if Furihata-sama wishes for it,” Shirogane finally said. “Araki happens to be a former _aikido_ champion and is well-versed in the art so we can easily switch the training contents for today. However, I am astonished. This is the first time Furihata-sama has taken the initiative to make suggestions to his training module. Is there perhaps a reason for this?”

“Uh…” Furihata scratched his head. “…not really? I guess I was just kind of thinking that I’ve never really been good with handling gadgets and stuff – I’m kind of a klutz, you see? And it really doesn’t help that the gear and all are so _heavy_. So I figured, maybe, if it’s just my bare hands or if I didn’t have to carry heavy stuff around or…or if there were just less things in the way then… maybe…”

Furihata trailed off, not sure whether he was making any sense but to his surprise, Shirogane looked impressed. “Furihata-sama, perhaps I should have made it clear earlier but the training plan drawn up for you would have eventually led to your exposure to other styles of battle, which meant that you would eventually be slated to learn other forms of combat, including hand-to-hand. I had thought it suitable for a beginner such as yourself to start off with a style which places importance on compact movements and refined techniques such as _kendo_ but perhaps a more unrestrained form would be a better fit. A little change might be just what we need.”   

Relieved that his suggestion had gone over better than expected, Furihata grinned widely as Shirogane lowered the protective gear he had been holding. “Thanks, Shirogane-san! Let’s do it then!” Feeling pumped up, Furihata took his position quickly. Araki, whom had been listening in on the exchange had discarded her bamboo sword and was already in the midst of removing the protective gear she wore, a small smile on her lips. Furihata gulped when he remembered that Shirogane had called her a ‘former _aikido_ champion.’ He braced himself for another day of thrashing, bamboo sword or no bamboo sword. Here goes nothing. “I’m in your care, Araki-san!”

“You seem full of motivation today, Furihata-sama,” Shirogane observed.

“Aha… I suppose so,” Furihata gave a small laugh, but then the humor was immediately wiped from his face when Araki stepped forward and took up a fighting pose, sending Furihata’s nerves into overdrive as his first _aikido_ lesson began. Looks like Araki was the kind of instructor who teaches by doing and not by preaching.

Furrowing his brows in determination, Furihata stood his ground.

If this is what life was going to throw at him from now on, then he would learn to roll with it.

********************************************

It was late in the evening, the last of the rays of sunlight having disappeared in the horizon leaving the grounds of the Akashi estate in a blanket of darkness punctuated only by timed orbs of orange-yellow fireballs coming to life in strategic locations across the vast grounds. The artificial lighting illuminated the garden with a peculiar glow, making it easy to see across the whole expanse of land, a feat meant to dissuade nighttime intruders.

In stark contrast to the blackness of the grounds outside, the mansion stood magnificently lit in the middle. Guards patrolled the driveway at the entrance even though a large number of security cameras had already been installed at every turn and corner, ensuring there were watchful eyes on all angles of the estate at all times. Despite the extreme protective measures taken to secure the grounds, all those on security duty remained on high alert, making the Akashi estate an impenetrable fortress at night as much as it was in the day.

Within these shielded walls, the master of the estate sat in his study, chair swiveled away from his desk as he looked out the glass window behind and at the vast darkness of the grounds. The expression on his face was a reflective one, the gears of his brilliant mind working silently in the peaceful confines of the room he used as his home-office. It was close to dinner time, which meant that he could expect his nightly visitor anytime now. 

 _Knock, knock._ A sudden pounding at the door interrupted his thoughts. Just on time.

“Come in.”

The door opened, revealing Shirogane. The head butler shut the door firmly behind him before moving to the middle of the room and bowing. “Akashi-sama.”

“Shirogane,” Akashi acknowledged with a nod, chair spinning back to its original position behind the large, wooden work desk. He waited expectantly.

“Furihata-sama spent the morning working on the usual endurance menu and in the afternoon, a one-on-one practical with Araki. His movements have been showing slight improvement recently and if nothing else, there is a noticeable difference in his stamina. Furihata-sama might not have noticed it himself yet but his fitness levels are improving. It will not be long before he breaks the plateau and the pace of his learning will pick up.”        

“It seems he is developing as anticipated then.”  

“Undeniably so, Akashi-sama. It is exactly as you have foreseen.”

“What of his wounds?”

“Much better today after having Nakatani treat it last night.”

“…and his state of mind?”

“The same as always. Furihata-sama has not expressed a desire to leave the estate nor to contact anyone. He did, however, seem to be in a rather good mood today. We switched _kendo_ training this afternoon for _aikido_ at his own behest.”

“Is that so?” There was a pleased look on Akashi’s face, seemingly satisfied. “No less than I expected from Kouki. Excellent work, Shirogane. Continue with your daily observations and report to me again tomorrow.”

“Certainly, Akashi-sama,” Shirogane said with a bow as he finished his report. This was the routine for the head butler ever since Akashi had placed Furihata under the older man’s care – every evening while Furihata was washing up and preparing for dinner, he would slip away to Akashi’s study and submit daily reports of Furihata’s progress to the young master he served. When Shirogane straightened back up, he noticed the sheaves of paper spread out across Akashi’s work desk and looked at them purposefully. “If I may, Akashi-sama, I presume that the report from Momoi-sama has arrived?”

“Indeed it has. After one month of burrowing our noses deep into the Organization’s top-secret database, this is all we managed to find,” Akashi remarked, gesturing towards the materials in front of him. “Which is to say, nothing at all. There is nothing in the information we found which we are not already aware of.”

“It is strange that information on a mere D-class is kept under the Organization’s most classified folders,” Shirogane frowned.

“And stranger still is the lack of information kept on-record,” Akashi concurred. “It is as if the Organization is intentionally blocking out details, as if they have something they wish to be kept hidden…” A look of curious intrigue passes over the younger man’s expression as he says this.

“I will send word for our men to redouble their efforts.”      

“Tell them to exercise caution. It would not do if the Organization catches wind of our snooping around.”

“Of course, Akashi-sama.”

“Now that Kouki’s name has officially been struck off the Organization’s list, gathering data should be our top priority.”

At this mention, Shirogane’s frown turns into an expression of concern. “Akashi-sama,” he began. “I apologize if I am overstepping the line of my authority but if I may be so allowed… the matter pertaining to Furihata-sama’s hit. Did you really…?” Shirogane did not finish his sentence but it wasn’t necessary. Akashi knew precisely what the wise butler was getting at.

“Yes I did, Shirogane.”  

“I see.” Akashi watched as the full weight of his answer sank into his head butler’s mind. However, as expected of the man who had pledged unyielding loyalty to the Akashi family, it didn’t take long for Shirogane’s expression of concern to be replaced by one of firm determination. “Very well. If that is Akashi-sama’s final decision then as your advisor and right-hand man, I shall stand by it.”

“Thank you, Shirogane. You have my gratitude,” Akashi said appreciatively. It was barely noticeable, but there was a hint of relief in his voice. As someone who had watched over and guided Akashi since he was a young child, Shirogane was someone that Akashi respected deeply, the older man imparting priceless wisdom and standing steadfast in his support for Akashi whenever the time called for it. Having the older man on his side was reassuring and never failed to give him a sense of comfort no matter how dire the situation or how severe the potential consequences his actions might have. And it was especially so this time since Akashi had taken an unprecedented amount of risk in making his most recent decision.

After all, how many hitmen had the guts to submit a fake report of a hit to the Organization?

“Our resources will be instructed to focus their full efforts in investigating the Furihatas’ Cleanup Order,” Shirogane went on. “And with Furihata-sama safely with us, the Organization will be none the wiser. We shall ensure that everything goes according to plan.”

“That we shall,” Akashi agreed, gaze trained on a particular sheet of paper lying innocently amongst the mess on his desk. The sheet laid at the top of the pile, profiling a middle-aged man with familiar brown, messy hair and wide eyes with small pupils, and at the top right corner of the profile, red glaring words spelling out the words “DISPOSED” was stamped in large font. The seasoned hitman picked the profile up, staring unseeingly at the detailed information printed on the sheet, all of which he already had memorized.

“There is still much that needs to be learned.”

**Author's Note:**

> So what started off as a simple prompt response evolved into a full-blown universe with multiple subplots. When I first wrote Misfire, I already had ideas on the backstory for some of the characters and intentionally planted little details in case I ever felt like expanding on them one day. I guess that ‘one day’ is happening a lot sooner than I expected. ^^;; 
> 
> The general tone of Learning Curve ended up a lot more serious compared to Misfire but it needed to happen to flesh out what happens from hereon. Rest assured that there will be several more instalments to this series! Hitman!Akashi didn’t make much of an appearance this time but I definitely have plans for him so stay tuned! Feel free to let me know what you think of the direction this series is taking. Feedback is appreciated! Look me up on Tumblr under the same name for updates!


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